


Oz is Oz - Behind the Curtain

by Awahili



Series: Determinant [33]
Category: Zoo (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Series Rewrite, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 03:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16547606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awahili/pseuds/Awahili
Summary: "In every moment of choice, you create a new destiny." Mitch and Logan have to work together to find a young woman who could potentially save the world. When things go wrong, a choice is made that will forever change all of their lives. A Jamie/Mitch rewrite.





	Oz is Oz - Behind the Curtain

**Author's Note:**

> Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.

“You sure this is going to work?”

Mitch ground his teeth to keep from snapping at his companion. “Yes,” he growled. “Now shut up and let me concentrate.”

He was certain that today was the worst day he’d had in a long while, and considering the last few days of his life, that was saying something. Not only was Jamie arrested for murder, but now he had to infiltrate a dangerous mercenary hideout and retrieve a woman who didn’t know him from a hole in the ground. And to top off this messy cake of insanity, he had to do all of it with Logan. 

The younger man was standing just over his shoulder as he tried to decipher out how to accomplish his task without seeming like he was too far out of his depth. Jamie was counting on him, and he wouldn’t let her down. 

“Hey,” he called across the room to the pair of officers that Westfield had assigned to the task of finding Brittany Mason. Mitch hadn’t bothered learning either of their names. The man, a bright eyed Latino with only the barest hint of an accent, came over. His nametag read “Reyes.”

“Did you need help?” 

“Westfield said you know about all the gangs in the city?”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded once. “He also told me what we’re looking for. None of the local gangs are into that sort of thing. We have a few we’ve kept tabs on that we suspect might be involved in human trafficking, but none of our usual sources have reported anything like what you’re looking for.”

“Fantastic. Has your partner had any luck with the information from the Reiden tablet?”

“No, sir. She’s still going through the logs to find anything useful.” His eyes flitted from Mitch’s face to the screen behind him. “Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“You can.” Mitch turned back around, intent on ignoring any further inquiries, but both Logan and Reyes loomed over his shoulder. Mitch sighed. “It’s a trick I learned from Jamie, actually. Here,” he typed in another command and the screen changed. “I started by looking for kidnappings that fit the same MO. One person, possibly politically motivated, no trace left behind. Then I realized something.”

“What’s that?” Logan asked.

Mitch swiveled back with a sour expression on his face. “I’m not Jamie. She could find these people with no problem, but I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

“You said it would work!”

“I also said shut up, so I guess I’m oh for two.”

“Okay,” Reyes cut in, “let’s see what Van’s got.” 

It turned out Van was much better at her job than Mitch was. She’d already narrowed down the list of possible kidnappers to three groups. One of them was under investigation by the Narcotics unit for a smuggling ring, so Mitch dismissed them for now and focused on the other two. 

“Whoa,” he pointed at the screen. “This one. Who are they?”

“The Daughters of Freedom?” Van tapped a control and a dossier popped up over the search engine. “They started out as political terrorists mostly. They organized riots and the more violent marches, for a fee. They’re only on the list because of one hostage situation. They held a senator’s son until he voted the way they wanted. There was a big scandal about it a few years ago,” Van sounded like she expected Mitch to have heard all about it.

“I”ve been out of the loop for a while,” he told her. “They don’t sound like our guys.”

“Except for this,” Van typed something in. “After the senate scandal, there was a big bust. Most of the leadership was arrested and jailed, but a few got away. The word on the street is now they’re for-hire kidnappers with connections going all the way up to the Supreme Court. Seems like something Reiden’s CEO would at least know about, right?”

“What’s our other option?” Logan asked.

“One of the cartel’s fractured recently,” Van explained, switching the display to the second group. “The smaller group does anything and everything from drug running to kidnapping to hits. They’re trying to build a money base to compete with their former bosses.”

“Doesn’t feel right,” Reyes shook his head. “They have the means, but I can’t see them in bed with Reiden.”

“I agree,” Mitch nodded. It felt right. “I think these Daughters of Freedom are our best option.”

Van smiled slyly. “Then I know just the weasel to lean on to get what we need. Come on.”

The weasel, it turned out, was a greasy-haired man in his forties with beady eyes and a rail-thin frame. The way he twitched while Van and Reyes talked to him reminded Mitch of a skittish deer, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Mitch and Logan watched from the SUV, having lost the debate on whether they could tag along for the questioning. The weasel was getting more jittery, and Reyes’ hand gestures were growing more and more pronounced. They were arguing.

“What do you think they’re saying?” Logan asked, his voice abnormally quiet as though he were trying to keep from being overheard.

Mitch just shot him a quick glare before returning his eyes to the conversation. “I can’t read lips, so I have no idea.” 

For a moment it looked like the weasel was going to run, but then he grinned and slipped back into the storefront behind him as Van and Reyes turned back toward the vehicle. Mitch waited until they closed their doors to ask what they’d learned.

“Enough,” Van admitted. “He says he might have heard about something going down, but he isn’t sure. He did mention something about a large influx of people to the city with dark connections and deep pockets.”

“So, we have nothing,” Mitch interpreted.

“No, we got something,” Reyes shifted into gear and eased them out into New York traffic. “We have a name. The Gentlemen.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “That’s not so much a name as it is a…”

An expectant silence fell over the vehicle as Mitch fought to think of the right word. He could feel Logan’s eyes boring into him and he really wanted to punch him. He knew it probably wouldn’t help his lexicon dilemma, but it would definitely make him feel better. He settled on asking the next obvious question. 

“Who are the Gentlemen?”

Reyes’ eyes shifted from the road to the rearview mirror for a brief moment, but it was long enough for Mitch to catch something like unease in them. “Bad news.”

They pulled up outside a nondescript building and parked a few blocks from the entrance. Mitch peered at the stone walls and dark windows with skeptical eyes. “This is the place?”

“Don’t let the exterior fool you,” Van said. “Our guys have been trying to get in here for months. Apparently they keep getting stonewalled by receptionists in expensive suits.” Mitch unbuckled, only to be stopped by Reyes’ glower.

“And where are you going?”

“Inside,” he gestured toward the building.

“We can’t let a civilian -”

“-interfere with police business,” Mitch finished for him. “I know, I heard. So slap a ‘Special Consultant’ badge on me and let’s go.”

Van ended her call with dispatch and slipped the phone into a cargo pocket. “Back up is en route,” she reported. “Boss says to hang tight until they get here.”

Logan scoffed. “The longer we sit here, the more danger Brittany Mason is in.”

“We don’t even know if she’s in the building,” Van shot back. “Boss said wait, so we wait.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a cop.” Logan yanked on the door handle and slid out of the car quickly. Mitch was right on his heels.

“Stop!” Van was out next to them half a beat later. “You’re not authorized!”

“To enter a public building in New York?” Mitch threw over his shoulder. “Says who?”

He was fairly certain neither Reyes nor Van would push the issue. Civilians - as Reyes had so eloquently put it - weren’t bound by the same restrictions as the police were. They didn’t need a warrant or back up (though he wouldn’t mind the second, if he was being honest). Mitch secretly hoped Logan was making the right call here; neither of them had a weapon of any kind and they had no idea what they were walking into. Still, it felt better than waiting around.

Logan pulled open one of the two glass doors that led into the lobby. It was almost surgically clean, done in slate grays and metals. A single black horseshoe desk sat along the back wall, flanked on either side by heavy doors. There were no signs or posters of any kind on the walls to let people know what kind of place they were in, and there were only two upholstered chairs sitting off to one side. Obviously they didn’t intend on receiving many guests. 

“Hello,” the well-tailored suit behind the desk looked up at them with a polite smile. Mitch felt as though he had to fight to get it to stick. “How can I help you?”

Logan glanced back at Mitch for help, but Mitch had no plan. Winging things really was more Jamie’s forte. “Hi,” Logan answered after only a second of hesitation. “I’m hoping you can help me. I’m looking for Mr. Jones.”

The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, there is no Mr. Jones here. Perhaps you are in the wrong building?”

“No,” Logan played it off well, faking confusion with a quick glance back at Mitch. “This is the address he gave us, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes.” Mitch adjusted his glasses and tried to look confident. Judging from the dubious looks they were getting, he was probably failing. 

“There is no Mr. Jones here,” the man repeated. “Have a nice day.”

It was a dismissal, but Logan wasn’t done. He slid his phone from his pocket and pulled up a map. “Well, maybe you can help me? I know it’s around here somewhere.” He offered his phone out for the man to look at, and for a moment Mitch thought Logan’s plan had failed. Then the receptionist came around the corner of the desk to peer at the screen. Logan waited until his head was down before landing a blow to the base of his neck. He crumpled hilariously, tripping Logan and sending both of them to the floor.

Mitch reached down and hauled Logan to his feet. “Nice job, Rambo. Now what do we do with him?”

“Help me get him around behind the desk.” 

Mitch grabbed the legs as Logan shuffled backward with his hands under the man’s back. They dumped him rather unceremoniously on his side, and Logan checked him for weapons while Mitch turned to the door.

“Which one?”

“Just pick one.” Logan’s search had yielded a small handgun, thought judging from his expression it wasn’t quite the firepower he wanted. 

Mitch picked the left door, mostly because it was the closest to him. Behind it was a long hallway, stretching on at least a hundred feet. There were three doors on the right side and four on the left, and Mitch groaned internally at the thought of having to check each and every room. Logan’s little maneuver might have caught the receptionist off guard, but the moment he came to their little field trip was going to get far more interesting. They would need to hurry.

Logan paused by the first door on the right and placed his ear against it. After a few seconds he shook his head and opened it. The office behind the door was empty save for a single L-shaped desk devoid of any personal effects. It was almost as if the room itself was simply for show. Mitch checked the door on the left and found the same thing. Each door they came to led to an empty office, and the further they walked the more nervous Mitch got.

“Maybe we should wait for that back up,” he said. “This is starting to creep me out.”

“Let’s check this last one,” Logan said, reaching for the knob. It turned under his hand, but instead of an office, this door led to another hallway. This one was shorter, maybe twenty feet, and ended in another door. Logan strode through as Mitch protested.

“Whoa,” he whispered. “We have no idea what’s in there.”

“Brittany Mason is in this building somewhere,” Logan turned, his voice just a bit louder than Mitch’s. “We have to find her.”

Commotion on the other side made him think twice, and both Mitch and Logan bolted back through into the long hall and dove into an empty office just as footsteps and angry voices echoed down the corridor.

The first voice was tense and clipped, as though he was barely holding back his anger. “The police? Where is Jeffrey?”

“I don’t know, sir,” another softer voice replied. “He’s not responding.”

There were at least four people stalking hurriedly down the hall toward the lobby, and as their voices faded Logan reached for the knob.

“Now’s our chance.” He slipped out with Mitch on his heels, and they made it through the shorter hallway and through the last door with no resistance. It had a deadbolt on it, so Mitch slid it home to buy them at least a few more seconds. They were in a large boardroom with dark paneling and sleek leather chairs. There were screens on the right hand wall, and as Mitch read them he whistled low. They were auctioning something, and by the amounts displayed it was something of great value. He had an idea what it could be, and the thought made his stomach churn.

The far wall wasn’t a wall at all but a several large windows that led to what looked like examination rooms on the other side. Only one was occupied, a young woman in her twenties that had to be Brittany. A single door next to the windows was the only other way out. Mitch brain put the pieces together pretty quickly; they were auctioning Brittany herself. 

“Let’s go,” he pushed Logan toward the back door that had to lead to the exam rooms. There was faint shouting from the hall behind them, and they could hear the telltale tone of the police ordering someone’s surrender. A gunshot answered, followed by several more, and Mitch pushed Logan faster.

They found the woman’s exam room easily, and when they entered she jumped off the bed and backed up.

“Are you Brittany Mason?” Logan asked.

“Y-yes,” she stammered. “Who are you?”

“We’re getting you out of here,” Mitch answered. “Come on.” He reached out and grasped her hand, tugging her insistently as Logan took point. 

“We need to find a back way out,” Logan said.

“Or we could wait for the police,” Mitch offered. “If they’re in the building, we’re probably not getting out of here.”

“That, at least, you have right.” The voice startled all of them, and they turned to find a well dressed man in his fifties leveling a handgun at them. “Put the girl back.”

“And if we don’t?” Logan challenged, holding his own gun to bear on the man’s torso.

“Then I shoot you, then your companion and put her back myself.”

“Logan,” Mitch whispered. “The police -”

“-are otherwise occupied with my...associates,” the man smiled coldly. “Rest assured they will not reach you in time. You have ten seconds. Ten…”

“Logan,” Mitch urged. He needed to take the shot.

“...Nine…”

“I don’t have a shot,” Logan whispered back.

“...Eight…”

“If you don’t, we’re both dead.”

“...Seven…”

“If I shoot, he shoots.” Still, Logan didn’t lower his weapon. 

“...Six…”

Mitch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. They needed to get Brittany out of this building. Nothing else mattered, not even his own life. _Hell, I’ll probably die in the few next weeks anyway._

“...Five…”

With his mind made up, Mitch sent a silent goodbye to Jamie. Hopefully she would understand. He released Brittany’s hand and tensed his legs to ready for the jump. With a primal cry he lunged forward just as the man reached four. He had his gun trained on Logan and Mitch’s attack had come so unexpectedly, so his reaction was just a heartbeat too slow. The gun barked in Mitch’s face but it missed, and his body collided with the man with devastating force. They both went down in a tumble of limbs, and thankfully the gun clattered away in the tussle. Logan grabbed it and backed up, yelling for Mitch to get away.

He did, barely missing the punch that came less than an inch from breaking his nose. As Mitch scrambled to his feet Logan stepped forward to keep the man down. Mitch took a few deep breaths to steady his racing heart, and the adrenaline pumping through him made him feel a little giddy.

The happy feeling faded as he caught sight of something red on the gray carpet. Brittany lay crumpled against the wall, her hands pressed tightly over her abdomen to keep from bleeding out. Her face was screwed up in pain, and as Mitch fell to his knees beside her he could hear her whimpering.

“Oh God,” he moved her hands to assess the damage, ignoring the little cry that escaped her lips. “You’re gonna be okay,” he promised. Then, over his shoulder, “I need your jacket!” Logan managed to shrug it off without moving the gun from their attacker and he tossed it behind him. Mitch shoved it against the wound, thankful that it hadn’t gone clean through. “We need to get her to the plane!”

Something heavy crashed in the distance, and Mitch heard the clipped steps of the police as they invaded the board room. They cleared it and came for the back door. Logan dropped his guns just in time, throwing his hands up as Van and Reyes came busting through the door. 

“Clear!” Van called to her team. “Get a medic! Someone’s been shot.” Reyes grabbed the well dressed man and hauled him up, cuffing him as he recited the standard spiel. Van came over to Mitch and knelt down. “How can I help?”

“We need to get her to a hospital right now!” Van hesitated, but Mitch didn’t have time to explain it. “The survival of the human race depends on it!”

There must have been something in his tone, because she didn’t question it. She keyed her radio and called the captain back at the station. He okayed a police escort just as the medical team arrived with the gurney. Mitch let the paramedics take over Brittany’s care, but he kept close so he could hear everything. The bullet had entered her abdomen around her liver and she was bleeding internally. If they didn’t get her to the hospital soon, she wouldn’t make it. Mitch debated on telling them the whole truth, then decided it was better if they knew so that they didn’t accidentally do anything to harm the fetus.

“She’s pregnant,” he said. Instantly all chatter stopped and four sets of eyes turned toward him. “She is,” he reiterated. “Don’t ask me how, because I don’t know how. Not yet. But it is imperative to the survival of the human race that she and this baby survive.”

Mitch could see they were still dubious, but their movements became a bit hastier as they raised the gurney and began to roll it out. Mitch and Logan followed, but Van and Reyes stopped them.

“Whoa, where are you going?”

“With her.” Mitch tried to push past them but they blocked the door. 

Reyes shook his head sharply. “We’re going to need a statement from both of you. And you’re damn lucky this bust went smoothly or there would be hell to pay.”

“I’ll do it,” Logan offered. “I’ll go with you back to the station, but Mitch needs to go with Brittany.” There were precious seconds ticking by as the police made their decision, but finally they relented. Mitch shot Logan a grateful look and ran after the paramedics. He got outside just as they were loading her in and he jumped into the back when they gestured for him. 

“Sir, can you tell us her name?”

“Brittany,” Mitch said. “Her name is Brittany.”

The medics began talking to her, letting her know what they were doing as the ambulance started forward. They kept talking, but it was clear she was out of it. Logan’s jacket was laying at her hip soaked with blood, and it slopped to the floor soggily as the ambulance made a hard turn. 

Time blurred as Mitch concentrated on the beeping that indicated Brittany Mason was still alive. He focused on it, willing it to keep going as they drew ever nearer to the hospital. The paramedics were talking more to each other now than Brittany, their chatter almost like background noise as Mitch stared at the heart monitor. They finally screeched to a halt and the medics exploded out the back door. Mitch knew from experience that he would be of greatest use out of the way, so he stood back and let them wheel her from the ambulance into the ER.

“Sir?” A nurse with a short bob and a tired smile directed him toward the lobby. “Are you next of kin? Can you fill out any forms?”

“No,” Mitch shook his head. “I, uh…” He couldn’t tell them he didn’t even know her; he needed to be able to see her when this was all over. “I can get someone here, though.”

That seemed to appease her. “Okay. Do you need a phone?”

 

Mitch patted his pockets, wincing as some of Brittany’s blood smeared across his jeans. “Yeah. And a washroom.”

“Through there,” she pointed to a door with a frosted glass window with stenciled lettering that read “Restrooms.” Mitch shouldered it open and found the men’s room with little difficulty. He spent more time cleaning his hands than was necessary, but he wanted to make sure he got it all. Blood had a nasty tendency of sticking around.

Once he was satisfied with his hands, he used the restroom, washed his hands one more time and went to find the nurse.

“What’s the number?” she asked.

“Uh, the precinct over on 67th.” Her brow raised in surprise but she found the number and dialed it without comment. When it rung through she handed the receiver to him and retreated to a respectful distance.

“Uh, hi,” he started lamely. “This is Mitch Morgan. Is Detective Westfield in?”

“One moment,” came the clipped reply. There was a click, then silence. For a moment Mitch wondered if he’d been disconnected, but then it clicked again and a familiar voice answered.

“Westfield.”

“It’s Mitch Morgan,” he said. “I need to speak to Jamie.” He expected a fight; it wasn’t exactly standard procedure for anyone to call the precinct and ask to speak with a suspect. But he was surprised again when Jamie’s voice came on the line.

“Mitch? Are you alright? The officers just came back with Logan and said someone had been shot.”

“No, I’m alright,” he reassured her. “It was Brittany. They’re prepping her for surgery now. They need her next of kin. Did your search happen to turn anyone up?”

“I’d need my notes on my laptop,” she told him. “Is she going to make it?”

“I don’t know,” he told her honestly. “The bullet hit her liver. It’ll be tricky.”

She whispered a curse under her breath. “Alright, call Jackson. Once he gets to my laptop have him call me and I’ll direct him to the information."

“Okay.” He ran a hand over his face tiredly and fought the urge to sigh. “How are you? Are you still…”

“A murder suspect? No.” He could practically hear her smirk. “Abigail killed Leanne Ducovny. They found the video on her ocular lens chip.” 

Mitch shuddered as he remembered how he and Logan had retrieved the information necessary to clear Jamie’s name. He could still feel the unnaturally cool sensation of Leanne’s finger in his mouth as he warmed it enough to get them past her fingerprint sensor. Logan had gotten the worst of the deal, though. Putting a dead person’s contact lens in his own eye hadn’t been something Mitch had even wanted to contemplate. Luckily he’d been able to talk Logan into it.

“Mitch?”

He blinked. “What? Oh, that’s good.”

“Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah, yes. I’m fine. I’ll call Jackson and get back to you. Be careful.”

“You, too.” 

He hung up and immediately realized he had no way of contacting Jackson without his own cell phone. Resigning himself to another awkward phone call, he redialed the last number and found Westfield again. 

He sounded exasperated, and Mitch didn’t blame him. “I’ll have Jamie tell him to call you. What’s the number there?” Mitch got the number from the nurse and relayed it, writing it down on the notepad she gave him just in case he needed it in the future. “Okay, hang tight.”

It took almost ten minutes, but finally the nurse called him back over with the receiver angled his direction. He smiled his thanks and brought it to his ear. “Jackson?”

“Yeah, Mitch. I just wanted to let you know that Jamie got me into her computer and I contacted Brittany’s dad. He’s on his way. How is she?”

“They won’t tell me anything since I’m not family, but judging from their looks I’d say not good.”

“And how are you?”

“Better than Brittany.” He hung up abruptly. He’d apologize later - right now he was tired of answering the same question over and over again. Jackson would probably understand. 

Almost an hour went by before Jamie and Logan showed up with Westfield and Reyes in tow. Mitch stood up from the supremely uncomfortable plastic chair and enveloped Jamie in a hug. She squeezed back, and Mitch was grateful for her ability to read his needs without having to ask. 

“How is she?” Westfield asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe you can go wave your badge over there and find out.” He didn’t care if he was being cranky. He was tired and hungry, and the adrenaline rush from earlier had left him with an ache in his joints and a pounding headache. Jamie shoved him back into the plastic chair as Westfield wisely retreated to the desk.

“I’m gonna find you some coffee and a snack,” she said. “Any requests?”

“Shot of bourbon?” he tried. Her chuckle told him he likely wouldn’t get it, but it was good to see her smile. Logan sank down in the chair next to his with an awkward hum. They’d reached an odd sort of detente during the whole rescue fiasco, and Mitch was suddenly lacking anything to say to him. Finally he settled on, “Your jacket’s a total loss.”

“S’alright,” he shrugged. “I’ve got others.” A beat, then, “Should we check in with the rest of the Mod Squad?”

“Don’t call them that,” Mitch snapped. “We are clearly the A Team.”

Logan chuckled at the joke before falling into an uncomfortable silence. It was the longest ten minutes of his life, and Mitch very nearly jumped from his chair when Jamie returned with a sandwich in plastic wrap and a cup of coffee. He accepted both gratefully and let her sit between him and Logan as he ate. He was almost finished when an older man with thin white hair and age spots on his hands came rushing through the door.

He stopped at the nurses’ station with a frantic energy. “Brittany Mason? Where is she?”

“Sir? Are you family?”

“She’s my daughter. Is she okay? What happened to her?”

“She was shot in the abdomen. She’s in surgery now. If you’ll follow me I’ll take you to the surgical waiting area. You can fill out forms for your daughter and talk to the doctor when she’s out.” She grabbed his elbow to direct him away, and he only sent a cursory glance over his shoulder as he followed the nurse through the heavy double doors.

“We need to talk to him,” Jamie said to Westfield. “We need to be there when she comes out of surgery. We also need to get a copy of any scans and lab work to determine how she got pregnant in the first place.”

Westfield nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

It turned out that he did a lot. In a matter of minutes they were being escorted to a private waiting area with Mr. Mason. When they walked in, Westfield took the lead and introduced himself.

“Your daughter was kidnapped by traffickers,” he explained, leaving out the reason for her abduction. “We managed to rescue her, but she was injured in the crossfire.”

“Thank you for rescuing her,” Mr. Mason said hollowly. “How bad is it?”

Westfield hesitated. He hadn’t actually seen Brittany’s injury and so had no idea how to answer the question. Mitch realized he would have to answer.

“She was struck here,” he poked his own abdomen where the bullet had penetrated her. “We stopped the bleeding as much as we could and she got medical attention almost immediately.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“I...I don’t know,” Mitch answered honestly. “It depends on a lot of factors.”

“She’s strong,” Mr. Mason said proudly. “She’ll pull through.” 

Mitch didn’t dispute the point. He’d dealt with a few cases like this in his medical school years and he knew just how tricky it could be. He hoped the man was right. Brittany was too important to lose.

Then it hit him. He didn’t know. He had no idea just how important his daughter was to the future of humanity. Mitch knew he probably wasn’t the one who should tell him, but the man deserved to know. He cleared his throat, cast a quick glance at the others, then spoke.

“There’s something else you should know,” he said slowly. He felt Jamie staring at him, but he didn’t feel any push back from her. She was with him. “Your daughter is pregnant.”

Mr. Mason gaped at him for a moment. “H-how is that possible?”

“I’m not sure,” Mitch shook his head. “I have some theories, but it’s imperative that your daughter survive. The fate of the world may depend on it.”

Mr. Mason sank down into a chair as his knees buckled under him. “Christ.”

“I mean, divine intervention is possible, but it’s more probable that her sequestration when she was a kid kept her from absorbing a full dose of the TX gas, which in combination with the drug she got from Reiden was enough to restart her reproductive system.”

Mitch winced as Jamie elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “Mitch!”

“What do you mean?” Mr. Mason stood on shaky legs and made his way over to them. “I-I don’t understand.”

“Mr. Mason,” Jamie spoke in that tone that instantly made everyone feel at ease. Her reporter voice, she called it. It made Mitch smile to hear it again. “Please excuse Mitch, his mouth runs away with his words sometimes. It’s true - your daughter is pregnant, which makes her probably the single most important person in the world right now. I know this is scary, but my team and I have been dealing with things like this for a while now.”

Mr. Mason peered at her for a moment, his eyes squinting slightly before opening wide. “I know you! You were a part of that group that figured out the cure to the animal madness ten years ago.”

“Yes,” Jamie nodded. “And now we’re trying to figure all of this out. I don’t know how just yet, but your daughter will be a pivotal piece to this puzzle.”

The door opened again, and a woman in scrubs came through. Mitch could tell by the way she was carrying herself that whatever news she had wasn’t good. He’d seen that look - _worn_ that look - too many times not to know. When she spoke, she spoke in careful tones. “Are you the family for Brittany Mason?” 

“I am,” her father pushed forward. “Is she okay? Can I see her?”

“Mr. Mason, I’m Doctor Nevens. The bullet nicked her descending aorta and lodged in her liver,” the doctor said. “We did everything we could, but despite our best efforts your daughter isn’t showing any improvements. She’s alive for now, but it doesn’t look good.”

Mr. Mason looked stricken, and for a moment Mitch let himself sympathize. If Clem had been lying on that table right now, dying from a bullet wound, he’d be inconsolable. But the older man drew himself up and took the news stoically.

“The baby?” he asked.

“Is far too young to survive without his mother,” the doctor answered sadly. 

“His? It’s a boy?”

Doctor Nevens smiled sadly. “It’s a boy. Would you like to see her? She’s being moved to ICU, but I can have a nurse come get you when she’s settled.” 

“Thank you.” 

As the doctor left, Jamie moved from Mitch’s side to lay a comforting hand on Mr. Mason’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”

“What the hell is going on?” he whispered angrily. “Why is my baby girl dying from a gunshot wound!”

Westfield came over and steered the man away from Jamie, offering his own words of condolence as he sat down and began explaining everything from the beginning. Their quiet voices were the only sound in Mitch heard in the small room until Jamie came back over to him.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. 

“That baby could be the key to saving the human race. And if the doctor is right, he’ll die along with his mother.”

Mitch knew she didn’t mean to, but her words brought a wave of guilt with them. If Mitch hadn’t lunged for the gunman he wouldn’t have fired the shot in the first place. It was his fault that Brittany Mason was dying now, and with her the one thing that could save them all. Under normal circumstances, they could possibly transfer the baby to a surrogate and allow it to mature that way, but thanks to Robert Oz and his gas there wasn’t anyone left on the planet who could carry him to term. 

_Unless…_

It was a crazy thought, just an errant flicker of curiosity, but once it was there it stuck. It would require tests and one hell of a conversation, but it was possible…

“I know that look,” Jamie interrupted his train of thought. “What are you thinking?”

“I need a phone.” He reached out expectantly and was rewarded with Jamie’s cell seconds later. “Just, stay with them,” he told her. “I’ll be right back.”

He was trembling as he stepped outside and scrolled through Jamie’s contacts until he found the one he was looking for. She picked up after the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Clem, it’s Dad,” he said, trying to sound normal. He failed.

“Dad, what’s wrong?”

“Long story. Where are you?”

“Uh, somewhere over Tennessee, I think.”

“What?” Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “What happened?”

She launched into a long tirade about the drone losing power and Jackson spearing it with a cable mid flight and dragging it along behind them back to Mexico. Her sentences ran together as she spoke and Mitch recognized his own rambling tendency in her rant. 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Why did you have to fly the drone to Mexico?”

“Jackson wanted to drop it - and the hybrids with it - into the volcano.” It was a ludicrous plan and just the sort of thing Jackson would think of. 

“Okay,” he sighed. “How much longer until you’re back in New York?”

“Uh, an hour? Maybe two. I don’t know. Why?”

“I need you to come to New York Presbyterian in Manhattan when you get back. I need to talk to you.” He hated the ideas that were rattling around in his head, but he was out of options. 

“Dad, what’s -”

“Just come. It’s important.” She was silent after his outburst and he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, honey. Just hurry. Can you put Abe on the phone?”

“Uh, yeah. Hang on.” There was silence for a few moments, then Abe’s deep rumble filled his ear.

“Mitch?”

“Abe, I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to tell me the truth. And then I need you to keep it to yourself for now.”

“Okay…”

“Is it possible with today’s technology to transfer a fetus from one woman to another?”

“It’s...possible. They used to be unable to because the attachment of the placenta to the uterus could never be severed safely. But it can be done now. They tried a few years ago with artificially grown fetuses, but nothing ever took. Unfortunately, that sort of surgery is mostly theoretical now.”

“Okay, so in your professional opinion, it is possible?”

“Yes. Mitch, what -”

“I need you guys here the moment you land. Clem knows where we are.” He hung up and shoved the small device into his pocket. 

Mitch knew he needed to go back inside and explain his plan to Jamie and the others, but he didn’t feel like it right now. He looked up at the towering buildings around him and the bustle of people cleaning up the mess left by the brief hybrid attack. He could see the fear in people, the hopelessness that had suddenly enveloped them. No, he corrected himself. The hopelessness wasn’t sudden, it was just sudden to him. He’d been gone for almost ten years and had missed the slow decline of children in the population. These people had come to terms with the fact that humanity was on the outs and they were trying to salvage what they could from that mental wreckage. Their eyes were heavy with the burden of extinction, and Mitch knew that no matter what it cost, that baby had to survive.

He found Jamie and the others right where he’d left them. Mr. Mason had already been taken to the ICU. Mitch was grateful; this was going to be hard enough without having to add his emotional baggage to the decision.

Jamie met him just inside the door. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded and handed her the phone. “Clem and the others are on their way. Should be here in a few hours.”

“Why did you call Clem?”

“Let’s have a seat,” he ushered her toward the array of couches and chairs near the back of the room. Logan and Westfield were talking in low tones on the sofa, so Mitch and Jamie each took a chair. Logan stopped mid-sentence and looked up at them.

“What’s up?”

Mitch took a steadying breath and forced all of the emotional aspects of his plan to the back of his mind. He needed to be clinical right now or he’d never get through it.

“I might have an idea of how the baby can survive. It’s crazy and dangerous and it might not work.”

“Any chance is better than no chance at all,” Jamie replied. “What is it?”

“Clem.”

His answer garnered the expected response from all three of his companions. Westfield had no idea who Clem was, Logan just stared blankly, and Jamie looked...well she looked upset.

“What do you mean, Clem?” she enunciated. Mitch knew she loved Clem like her own. She’d raised her after Mitch’s disappearance and the two were obviously close. It made his heart swell to see them interact, especially knowing that Clem had been given a safe and loving home in his absence. And Jamie in particular was fiercely protective, so it wasn’t a surprise that his plan was met with some resistance. 

“Listen,” he shifted forward to the edge of his seat, “Clem has the ghost gene, right? And because of the serum we gave her, she was also immune to the harmful effects of the TX gas on the carriers of that gene. It’s possible that _that_ , coupled with the medications she took as a little girl, might have rendered her completely immune to its effects.”

“Are you saying that Clem might be fertile?” Logan asked incredulously.

“Might be is the key there,” Mitch impressed. “I’m not saying it’s a sure thing, but she is the only known surviving carrier of that gene. If the serum protected her from dying, it may have protected her other ways, too.”

“You’re going to ask her to carry the baby.” Jamie, as usual, cut through all of his bull and got straight to the heart of the matter. 

“If she is able, and it’s possible, then yes I’m going to ask her.”

He knew his daughter well enough to know what her answer would be. He could see by Jamie’s face that she was having the same thought. Even as a girl Clem was brave. Even if the only life she saved was the one growing in Brittany Mason’s body right now, she’d do it.

It was a tense few hours as Mitch tried to grab a nap. It had been too long since he’d slept and the fatigue was wearing on him. Unfortunately the hospital couch was only marginally more comfortable than the plastic chairs in the main waiting room and he managed a few small naps before the others arrived. Clem hugged Mitch first, then Jamie. 

Mitch moved from his daughter to Jackson and Abe. “Isaac?” he asked the larger man.

“Reiden moved the children without telling anyone,” he answered sadly. “There was a raid on the facility when calls to Reiden went unanswered. They found nothing.”

Jackson laid a supporting hand on Abe’s shoulder. “We’ll find him, Abe.” He turned toward Mitch and the others. “Why did you need us here?”

Now that the moment was here, Mitch felt himself hesitate. He hemmed for a moment before ushering them further into the room. Westfield and Logan had stepped out respectfully, mostly because Jamie had glared at them until they left. Mitch took a seat next to Clem, sandwiching her between his body and Jamie on the couch. Jackson and Abe took the chairs and leaned forward to listen to Mitch’s plan.

“This is insane.” Clem’s voice was barely above a whisper, and her hand was encased firmly between Jamie’s as she sucked in a breath. 

“I know,” Mitch apologized with his tone rather than his words. “But we wouldn’t even ask if it wasn’t important. The world is depending on this child.

Jamie cut in. “Sweetie, I know it sucks and it isn’t fair, but if your dad’s right then you are literally the only person on the whole planet who can do this.”

Clem shrugged. “Then I guess I don’t have much of a choice do I?”

“Of course you do,” Jamie answered firmly. “This is ultimately your decision.”

“No,” she smiled as she shook her head to take the sting out of her words. “It isn’t. Dad’s right. The world needs this child. I’ll do it.”

“Clem,” Abe put in softly. “It’s possible that combining this child’s DNA with your own could produce the very key we’ve been looking for to solve sterility.”

“Really?”

“I would need to run some tests, but yes. I believe so.”

It was the nail in the coffin. Mitch watched his daughter square her shoulders and accept this burden, and he’d never loved her more. He slung an arm over her shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “And we’ll be here every step of the way. You’re not doing this alone.”

“Someone should inform the doctor,” Jamie said as she stood. “And Brittany’s father.”

Mitch glanced up and caught her eye, an entire conversation passing between them in an instant. She left the room with a smile and Jackson laughed.

“I missed that,” he told Mitch. “She never had that with anyone else. From day one she’s been in sync with you.”

“What was it like back then?” Clem asked from the shelter of his arms. 

Mitch looked down at her. “Surely Jamie has told you all of it by now.”

“Yeah,” she slipped out of his embrace and settled back on the couch. “I want to hear it from your side.”

By the time he reached Paris and Jamie’s terrifying Scrabble skill, the woman in question came back through the door with Mr. Mason in tow. 

“Is it true?” he asked. “Can you save the baby?”

“Whoa,” Mitch stood and blocked the man’s approach. “It’s possible. We won’t know until we run some tests.”

Behind him, he heard Clem groan. “More tests. I _hate_ tests.”

He felt bad for her. Her entire childhood had probably seemed to her like a never ending series of tests and medications. Mitch had only been focused on the future - on ensuring his baby girl _had_ a future - that he never considered what it was like for her. Not until Audra had put a stop to it all.

“I’m sorry,” he turned back to Clem, “but we have to find out if this is even possible. What did the doctor say?” This last question he directed at Jamie.

“They said it’s possible, but the odds aren’t good because of the sterility issue,” she shrugged. “I tried to explain, but science-y stuff isn’t really my thing.”

“Well then,” Mitch rubbed his hands together and gestured toward the door. “Let’s go do some science.”

It took some convincing to let Mitch use the laboratory, but once the tech saw that Jamie Campbell, renowned author, was asking he gladly stepped out of the way. 

“You should sign a napkin or something,” Mitch teased as he snapped on a pair of gloves. Just the action made him feel better, more in control, and he set to gathering the necessary equipment. Abe was on the other side of the workstation in a matching pair of gloves, ready to assist. In the past Mitch would have taken his offer of help as a slight against his scientific prowess. Now he was glad for it. He was woefully behind on the intricacies of modern technology, and while he understood the basic science behind the principle it was ultimately going to be Abe and the doctors here that would determine if this was even possible. 

Jamie came up to him almost an hour into the tests with news. “Westfield and his team think they might have a lead on Duncan. I have to go check it out.”

“Okay, be careful.” He didn’t like the idea of splitting up again, but he knew how important this was to her. He couldn’t touch her, but he did accept the kiss she gave him before bolting out the door. Not five minutes later, Jackson came bursting through huffing like he’d run a marathon.

“I have to get back to Mexico!”

“Slow down, _rafiki_ ,” Abe stood to calm his friend. “What is going on?”

“Tessa called me. She’s in trouble. I have to go.” His sentences were abbreviated by short puffs of breath and his eyes were wide. Mitch had seen him like this before, when they’d watched Chloe tumble out of the open end of their cargo plane as it rolled down the runway. He’d been helpless then, unable to save her, though it was apparent every cell in his body was screaming to do something. 

“Take the plane,” Mitch told him. “Have Logan’s team and Dariela stay behind to keep looking for Isaac. They can do that on the ground as well as on the plane.”

“I cannot go with you,” Abe said sadly.

“No,” Jackson agreed. “You’re needed here. I’ll take Harren. And Logan,” he added quickly. “He knows how to fly the plane with the tablet.”

“Be safe, Jackson,” Abe pleaded.

“I will. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” As he left the room, Mitch looked around at the small group left.

“Anyone else have a crisis they need to attend to? Clem?”

“No thanks,” she shot back. “I’m too busy freaking out about this one.”

“It’s going to be alright,” Abe promised. “Your father is brilliant and I am very good at my job. You will be fine.”

Abe had partnered with the hospital’s leading ob-gyn to come up with a surgical plan for the transfer. Mitch left them to it, knowing there was no way the hospital would let him operate on his own daughter even if he was licensed. It took almost another two hours to confirm that Clem was a viable match and another to prep her for the surgery. Mitch sat by her bedside through it all and held her hand.

“You remember when you were a little girl and had to go to the hospital for the tests?”

Clem smiled. “You told me I was a brave warrior princess on a quest, and the answer to a very important riddle was inside me.”

“I wasn’t wrong.” He reached out to brush an errant curl away from her forehead. “You are still the bravest girl I’ve ever met.”

She didn’t look convinced. “What about Jamie?”

Mitch laughed. “Okay, okay. You’re both the bravest. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” she shrugged, careful not to disturb the IV in her arm. “Dad, tell me for real. Is this dangerous?”

“Oh no, sweetie. This will either work or it won’t, but there’s no danger to you. Abe and the other doctors have everything under control.” He knew, as well as she did, that there was always an inherent danger in any surgery. But he had every confidence in the doctors and Abe most of all. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Clem. 

He kept his face blank as they wheeled her out, but inside he was a wreck. He wished Jamie was here to tell him it was going to be okay as the door swung closed behind the entourage of nurses and surgical techs that surrounded Clem’s bed. 

Mitch returned to the waiting room and paced the floor for almost an hour before Jamie returned with a cryptically triumphant expression. When he asked her what she’d found about Duncan, however, she just shook her head.

“I’ll let everyone know when we’re all back together,” she said. “How’s Clem?”

“I don’t know.” She took his hand and steered him toward the couch in an effort to curb his pacing.

It was a nerve wracking three hours later when Abe came in. Mitch and Jamie stood awaiting the news and it was only a moment before he grinned. “It worked,” he said. “The fetus was successfully transferred into Clem.” He sobered immediately, halting the celebration on their lips. “Brittany didn’t survive the surgery. The doctors are informing Mr. Mason right now.”

Mitch was a jumble of emotions, and it took more than a few minutes for him to process everything. His little girl was pregnant, and he had no idea how to feel about it. The baby technically wasn’t hers, but he knew that Clem would become attached to the little guy soon. They needed to sit down and talk to Mr. Mason soon to hash out the details.

“You okay?” Jamie sat on the edge of the coffee table to be able to look him in the eye. 

“Uh, sure, I guess. It’s just...hard to believe.”

“I know what you mean. Abe,” she looked up and drew him into the conversation, “how long before Clem can leave?”

“The doctors want to monitor her for a few days to make sure there are no complications. After that, her primary care will be transferred to me. We’ll be able to leave by Friday.” It was as satisfactory an answer as Mitch could hope for. “Have you heard from Jackson?”

“No,” Mitch shook his head. “He’s probably only just now getting back to Mexico. We probably won’t hear from him unless something goes wrong.”

“So, any minute now,” Jamie joked. 

“Would you like to see her?” Abe asked. “They were settling her in her room, but I’m sure she would like to see you when she wakes up from the surgery.”

“Yes.” Mitch was up and off the couch in an instant, Jamie hot on his heels.

Clem was in the maternity ward, which was a weird enough sentence in his head, but as he pushed the doors open and saw the myriad of cutesy baby decor he was assailed by the eerie silence that encompassed the entire wing. There were no families to coo over their newest additions and no babies to cry for food or a change. Only one nurse was on duty because Clem was their only patient, and dust covered the desks and chairs from almost a decade of disuse. 

Mr. Mason was waiting at Clem’s door. As they approached he stood up from the row of chairs attached the wall next to her room and held out his hand. Mitch shook it first, then Jamie.

“Mr. Mason, we’re so sorry for your loss.”

His eyes were puffy and red from crying over the loss of his daughter, but he held himself proudly. “Thank you. I wanted to thank Clem for doing this in person. If I may?”

“Of course,” Jamie gestured toward the door. “I’m sure she would be happy to see you. You can wait inside with us.” They all walked in together, Mitch in the lead and Jamie walking behind with Mr. Mason. They hung back as he sat on the edge of Clem’s bed. She was still sleeping off the anesthesia, and other than the IV stand next to her and the drip line connected to her arm, she appeared to just be resting. She was okay, and he was going to sit with her for as long as it took for her to wake up.

“I’m here, Clem,” he whispered softly as he took her free hand in his. “Dad’s here. I’m right here, Clem.”

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for this delay and any future delays this month. Apparently my brain decided it wanted to do NaNoWriMo five days before the 1st of November, so I've been scrambling to pre-write and get my words in. I'm at just under 15k now, though, so I'm on track. I am also going to be writing the next chapter of this, working (presumably) and finishing up this semester of school. I might get to sleep before December rolls around, but I doubt it. Wish me luck, y'all!


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